


My Own Worst Enemy

by Elenaxoxo



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexual Justin, Bisexual Zach, Bottom!Justin, Crack, Explicit Language, F/M, Hate to Love, Humor, Justin isn't friends with the rich kids, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Slash, Yay for Justin/Hannah friendship, top!Zach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 15:32:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenaxoxo/pseuds/Elenaxoxo
Summary: Justin Foley hates Zach Dempsey with a passion. It's not that he's jealous. He just can't stand the fact that everyone thinks this douche is perfect.Well, he's determined to prove everyone wrong. And he won't stop until he finds out what Zach's hiding.





	My Own Worst Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> Back again. I don't know if this pairing is rare or popular or what, but I wanted to give them a go.
> 
> Please note that this is an alternate universe and you'll see some major differences than what we've seen on the show. If this bothers you too much, please do not read.

Zach Dempsey is perfect.

He has the looks for sure. The guy could probably model if he wanted to. He comes from money, probably being the richest guy in school right next to Bryce Walker.

He isn't the smartest guy in school, but he gets good enough grades that, on top of being one of the star basketball players, he could probably get into almost any college for sure on some kind of scholarship.

He has the popular thing down pat--big group of friends, dating some hot cheerleader, shows up to every party and almost every school event.

So yeah. To Justin, Zach Dempsey is, for all extensive purposes and outward appearances, perfect.

And Justin doesn't buy it for one fucking second.

He's a firm believer in the whole _nobody’s perfect_ thing. Everyone has flaws. It's part of being human. No one can escape it.

That's why when he first heard about Zach Dempsey and then saw him for himself, Justin knew he was full of shit. Something is wrong with him. There has to be. Nobody can be perfect--it's impossible.

Maybe he worships Satan in secret or something and sacrifices innocent animals for the Devil. Or he has an addiction to prescription pain meds. Or an eating disorder. Maybe some bizarre medical thing that makes him crave human blood. Maybe he's a cannibal too?

Anyway, the point is that Justin doesn't buy this act Zach Dempsey is selling. He may be the only one, but fuck, he knows he's right. Zach has to have a flaw.

And he will find out what it is.

 

* * *

 

He stares at Zach from across the cafeteria, watching him eat his lunch. It's a cheeseburger and fries. That throws the eating disorder theory out the window.

Damn it.

But there's still hope.

Justin nudges Hannah, who grunts in acknowledgement but doesn't look up from her book. That's fine because Justin isn't looking at her either. He's still too busy scowling at Zach.

“Hey. How likely do you think it is that he's bulimic?”

“Who?” She asked disinterestedly, turning a page.

“Zach Dempsey.”

“Oh. No, he's not.”

“Yeah? How would you know?”

“You don't eat food like that if you know you're just going to throw it up afterwards unless you're a masochist.”

Masochist. Well, shit. That's an idea. Maybe he's one of those.

He wastes another ten minutes of his lunch glaring at Zach. He's laughing with the group of friends he's with, and his girlfriend’s hanging on to him and looking at him like the sun shines out of his ass. It's disgusting.

“Keep staring at him like that and he's going to catch on,” Hannah mutters, disrupting him.

“Catch on to what?” Justin says. “That I can't fucking stand him?”

“More like you're obsessed with him,” she corrects.

“The fuck--? I am not!”

“Uh huh.” She doesn't sound convinced. He shoots her a scowl.

“I'm _not_. I just don't buy his stupid _Golden Boy_ act. There has to be something wrong with him. And I'm gonna expose him for the fraud he is.”

Hannah rolls her eyes. “You're not gonna find anything.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because Zach is _actually_ perfect.” She closes her book. “Don't waste your time, Justin. Seriously.”

And with that said, Hannah stands up, grabs her stuff, and walks away. Justin rolls his eyes and watches her leave. Then he turns to Zach and resumes staring at him.

Justin won't stop until he gets dirt on this asshole.

 

* * *

 

Justin cocks an eyebrow at his computer. The speakers are blasting out the “I Hate The World Because The World Hates Me” playlist he created a while ago.

“Justin.”

At the sound of her voice, he grits his teeth and he pretends like he doesn't hear. Maybe she’ll take the hint and go away. Hasn't worked yet, but hey--he can be an optimist when he wants to be.

“Justin!”

_Nope. I don't hear you._

“Justin Foley!”

Her voice makes his ears want to bleed and his eyes narrow. He finally turns around, but only to sneer at his mother.

“What?” He spits at her.

She gives him a look--the one that she always gives him. Weary and disappointed. Like she's so fucking above him even though she's a drunk and is dating a junkie.

“Turn down the music. Seth’s sleeping.”

He rolls his eyes, but grudgingly turns down his music. Only because he doesn't want to fight that fucking prick right now. Then he shoots her a sarcastic glare

“Happy?”

His mother purses her lips instead of responding. That's fine. He doesn't want to hear her fucking voice anyway. Nor does he want to see her fucking face anymore.

He turns back around in his chair. “If that's all you wanted, you can go now.”

“Actually, I need you to do a favour for me.”

_Of course you do._

He scowls at the wall behind his desk. The guys in the band posters he has taped to his walls scowl back. “You want me to run to the liquor store right now?”

“Can you please pick Chloe up from her lessons at five?”

“No,” he scoffs. “I've got homework.”

It’s a lie, but whatever. She doesn't know that.

She sighs. “Justin, please. It will only take you thirty minutes.”

“Then why don't you do it?” He snaps. “She's _your_ daughter.”

“Because I have to go to work,” she explains. She tries to do it calmly, but it's clear she's losing her patience. “And she’s your sister.”

“Half-sister.”

“Justin.”

And just to shut her up, he agrees. “Fine, whatever,” he says. “I'll pick her up.”

“Thank you,” She says, and she sounds like she actually means it. “The address is written on a sticky note on the fridge.”

He grunts and puts on his headphones so she knows to leave him the fuck alone now.

 

* * *

 

This can't be the place.

Justin checks the address again on the note she left for him again. The house number and street name match, so...he guesses this is the right place.

He looks back at the house and makes a face at its size, immaculateness, and how the neighbors seem to be competing with it for “Biggest and Bestest House of the Year!” award. Which means this neighborhood is full of rich douche-bags who probably have their noses pressed up against their perfect glass windows, wondering what the hell someone like him is doing here.

Rolling his eyes, he flips off whoever may be watching him and then gives the house he's parked in front of one last doubtful glance before he gets out of his car and begins walking towards the door. As he goes, he makes sure to scowl at everything--the cobblestone walkway, the perfectly pruned flowers on either side of it, the much too green grass of the lawn, and the excessively fancy stone steps leading up the fancy “Welcome!” mat--just to make it clear that he's not impressed by any of it.

But it does make him wonder how much money his mother dishes out to this douche to pay for her daughter's lessons. Probably way more than what's reasonable. Chloe’s only four. Do normal, non-genius four year olds really have the mental capacity for something like this? Or the commitment? More to the point, how can she even hold a damn guitar when it's practically the same size as her?

With an even deeper scowl that has nothing to do with the appearance of the house this time, he knocks harder than necessary on the door. There's a doorbell button not even six inches away, but fuck that. He's not in the mood, and if there's even a chance of messing up what looks like a fresh coat of white paint, he's going to take it.

More than ten seconds go by and the door remains closed. He doesn't hear anyone trying to get it either. He knocks again because he really doesn't have the time or patience for this shit. It's not his responsibility to pick her up. As much as he loves his sister, he would rather be back in his room, staring at the ceiling with music blasting in his ears until he falls asleep.

Or go deaf. You know, whatever happens first.

When there still isn't an answer after his second round of knocking, he huffs and starts again for a third time. He's mid-knock when the door finally opens. He makes sure his displeasure at being kept waiting so long is written all over his face as he looks up at the inconsiderate douche who's at fault for it.

And when he sees that the inconsiderate douche is none other than Zach fucking Dempsey, his displeasure only increases because _of course it's him_. Of course he's the one giving his baby sister guitar lessons. Of course he can plan the guitar.

Justin scowls even harder, especially when he sees the friendly way Zach’s looking at him. Like he didn't keep him waiting forever. Fucking douche.

“Hey,” he says, sounding pleasant. It's gross. “Can I help you?”

“Where's Chloe?” Justin grunts out in response. ‘Cause fuck formalities.

Zach blinks. Then, he smiles at him. It's all perfectly straight, white teeth and looks so impossibly genuine that there's no way in hell it’s real.

“You must be her brother, Justin,” he says. “We have some classes together too. It's nice to meet you.” He extends his hand out, obviously offering for him to shake it.

Justin doesn't.

Instead, he barely spares it an uninterested glance before he looks Zach right in the eye with a flat stare. After about three seconds, Zach’s smile slips a little and uncertainty enters his expression.

“Is Chloe ready to go or not?” Justin asks impatiently.

“Uh…” Zach stares at him for a second or two before he snaps out of it, shaking his head and furrowing his eyebrows, clearly a bit flustered. The corner of Justin’s mouth twitches.

“Actually, uh, we got a late start, so we have more run through to go,” he tells him, regaining his composure with each word. “If you want to come in and wait, it shouldn't take us that long.”

Justin continues to give him a deadpan look. Zach just smiles back, obviously not realizing how much he's inconveniencing him right now. Fucking douche. Justin rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Whatever.”

Zach steps aside to let him in. It's uncomfortable. Justin glances at him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye as he walks into his unnecessarily large home.

“Well, take a seat anywhere,” Zach says, motioning around. “Like I said, we shouldn't be much longer.”

The other man grunts in response. Zach flashes him a quick, nervous grin before he turns away and walks down a hall.

And leaving Justin on his own tells him that Zach thinks he can trust him inside his house.

_Big mistake, dude._

Smirk forming on his lips, he looks around at his options. There are two hallways he could take--the one he disappeared down and another on the opposite side of the entrance hall. But he chooses the big staircase and takes the steps two at a time.

Once he's at the top, he takes a right down the hall because, out of all the other rooms up here, there's only one that's been left open and it's that way. It may only be a bathroom, but hey--may as well check.

So, he peeks inside, unable to help himself. The corners of his lips twitch when he sees that it's not a bathroom, but someone's bedroom.

Jackpot.

He glances around, taking in the blue walls, high ceiling, and the shiny wooden floor. His eyebrows raise when he sees the bed is nothing special. Just a simple double with a light blue comforter and two white pillows. The desk, bookcase and shelves are all made out of dark wood. It's like something out of a fucking home design magazine.

What really gets him, though, is how neat the room is. Everything is perfectly arranged. There isn't a book out of place, a piece of clothing strewn anywhere, or clutter of any kind. Even the desk is flawlessly organized with a closed laptop directly in the middle of the desk, lined up with the push-in chair, and he textbooks and notebooks neatly stacked to the one corner.

Well, at least he knows who's room this belongs to. He cocks an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder to see if anyone's coming.

Nope. Coast is clear.

He smirks to himself and walks into the room.

The stupid fuck trusted him to be alone, didn't he?

There's a walk-in closet and a bathroom that make Justin scoff in disgust. He walks over to the desk and opens the laptop in hopes that it’ll be on. It's not. He curses under his breath.

Then, he takes to opening up desk drawers, but there's nothing incriminating in any of them. It's disappointing. He huffs and glances around the room for something else to snoop through. His gaze eventually lands on a nightstand. He goes over to it and is just about to open it when he notices the iPod resting on the stand. He cocks an eyebrow again, an idea forming inside his head. He takes the iPod and shoves it inside his pocket.

Three seconds later, someone loudly clears their throats from the doorway. Justin looks up slowly disinterestedly to see Zach with a confused and slightly annoyed look on his stupid face. But all he says is, “Chloe and I are finished,” as casually as can be. As if he's annoyed Justin would be snooping around his room but isn't going to challenge him on the matter.

What the fuck.

But rather than let him know that it bothers him, Justin merely sends him a sneer. “About fuckin’ time,” he snaps, shoving his hands deep inside his hoodie pockets.

Then, as he stomps past him, out of the corner of his eye he sees Zach glance around the room. For a split second, his gaze lingers on his nightstand. But if he notices that his iPods missing, he doesn't mention it.

He just turns and follows him down the hall.

 


End file.
